


Outwitted

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Hostage Situations, M/M, Post Gauda Prime, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Servalan uses Blake as Avon's whipping boy, in order to force Avon to develop the Star-Drive, teleport, etc. for her.</p><p>(If she had been able to look back in history to see what happened to the Ten Rings when they grabbed Tony Stark, she would have realized that forcing a genius to invent things for you never turns out well.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Published in Fire and Ice 1998 and reposted here by request despite a few flaws in characterization/motivation, etc. that had kept me from putting it on AO3 earlier.
> 
> I can't fix ancient fic, so I've brushed it up, shined it up, and hope you'll accept it, warts and all, as a time-capsule look at my writing nearly two decades ago.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

He drew a circle that shut me out-

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But love and I had the wit to win

We drew a circle that took him in.

from the poem 'Outwitted' by Edwin Markham

They were taking rather too long with the 'softening up' session, Avon thought. After killing Blake he hadn't much resistance left in him. If it wasn't for the small remaining pleasure of frustrating the Federation he would have given them whatever they asked. Then there were the others- he'd failed them; by rights his death should be more prolonged and painful than theirs. But enough was enough. It had gone beyond pain quite some time ago. Didn't they have a proper interrogator?

He'd been expecting one, and was obscurely disappointed that he would not have the opportunity to match wits with a trained man. He should have shot himself when he had the chance. Killing several guards in the tracking gallery ought to have bought him instant oblivion. Instead they'd carefully aimed at non-lethal areas- right shoulder, leg and arm, mostly. And then their medic patched him up, and simply turned him over to the troops. It was insulting to a man of his intelligence.

"Ah!" he grunted as a boot landed directly on his wounded shoulder. It was bleeding again, he noted in the distantly logical part of his mind that still insisted on calculating the odds and possibilities for survival. He was so far into the negative numbers that his best hope seemed to be enraging a guard into giving him a quick death.

"Best you can do, coward?" he taunted, weakly. He smiled, his blood-spattered lips curling in derision. The grin widened as he saw the guard's face, bright red with anger. A boot drew back and aimed for his face. This guard was a large, muscular individual. With any sort of luck at all, this would be a killing blow.

"No!" One of the other guards dragged Avon's attacker back enough so that the boot added to his misery, rather than ending it.

After that, Avon stopped trying. His body curled up around the pain, and noises came from his mouth, but he was no longer paying any attention. Eventually, the blows stopped and there was a new pain as his body was roughly pulled upright and hard hands clamped onto his arms. He was dragged though several corridors, listening to some poor bastard moaning all the while. A door opened in front of him and the grip on his arms shifted. There was a moment of freedom as they released him and he flew through the air. Then he hit the floor.

"Avon?"

Avon moved his head, trying to evade the cold, wet thing that covered his face. The wet receded and he blinked to clear his vision. He blinked again at the impossible sight- Blake, kneeling beside him with that eternally concerned look on his face, the look that always drove Avon wild. "What..." he coughed, racking his aching ribcage with lines of fire, to bring up a mouthful of blood, followed by a fragment of shattered tooth.

"Here."

He accepted the cup of water and the strong hands that held him upright, balanced against Blake's knees, while he drank. He tried again. "What sort of game are you playing at, Blake?"

"Game?" Blake looked even more ingenuous. He stuck a finger into his mouth and gnawed at it for a moment. Then he said, "There are no games here, Avon. Except the ones the guards play." A fleeting expression of true fear played across his face.

Coming more into focus, Avon noticed that this Blake was different from the one he'd shot, pale and unscarred- at least unscarred on his face, the rest of him was hidden by a prisoner uniform identical to Avon's. "There was another Blake."

"Did he do this to you?" Blake asked, his arms wrapping around Avon carefully, mindful of the damaged flesh he held.

"In a way. He led me into this trap. I killed him," he added, as an afterthought. He regretted it when Blake's arms tightened. He felt the blood rush from his head, and wavered on the edge of consciousness.

"Sorry," Blake replied, loosening his grip. "Can you stand? There's a bed here- of sorts. Better than the floor, anyway."

Avon thought about it, but his legs refused to function, only twitching erratically at his command. He let his head drop back to rest against Blake's chest. "No."

Blake nodded, and put one arm beneath Avon's legs, preparatory to lifting him. "Try to relax. I won't drop you." He stood, bringing Avon with him. Despite Blake's care, the movement jarred a hoarse cry out of Avon, who wrapped his hands tightly into Blake's shirt in reaction.

After that, Avon's recollection of events was hazy. Later he dimly recalled coolness on his body, as he was tenderly bathed. He was unable to help as he was redressed, unable even to stop shivering, until a large, warm presence settled beside him. Utterly exhausted, he fell asleep.

"""

"Please, don't."

Avon had been muzzily aware of Blake leaving the narrow cot. He had assumed Blake needed to relieve himself, but Blake's pleading voice roused him. Slowly, he levered himself over onto his side. His mouth pinched. Two guards had come in to the cell. Blake was on his knees before them, in an begging posture that infuriated him. Blake should kneel to no one, no one at all. He opened his mouth to say so, then shut it again as it occurred to him that Blake would be punished for Avon's pride.

Blake twitched, and glanced at Avon, his eyes desperate, sending a message. To stay out of it? "He's hurt too badly," Blake said. "Please, leave him alone."

"And what about us? We have to have our fun." The nearest guard said. They had their helmets off, and Avon didn't care for the revealed expressions of anticipated pleasure and avid cruelty.

"You can have your fun. I'll... do whatever you like." Blake's sidelong glance now was unmistakable. Stay out of it, Avon.

It was logical. Blake was far better able to withstand whatever amusement the guards had in mind. Still, it grated to watch Blake kneel and beg those scum for Avon's sake.

"Well, then, do it. If you're good enough, we won't bother your little friend. Yet." The guard stood, relaxed and confident as Blake approached, still on his knees. "Yes," the man said, a deep, guttural sound, as Blake's hands worked at the fastening to the guard's trousers.

Avon's mouth went dry. Somehow, he hadn't realized exactly what the guard meant, which was unwontedly stupid of him. "No," he whispered.

Blake lifted his head and turned, giving Avon a furious glare. "Leave it!" he ordered. Under the anger, there was fear. It was the fear that made Avon obey.

He shut his eyes, refusing to watch as Blake resumed his ministrations. But he couldn't stop his ears, or shut off his imagination. The wet, sucking noises continued for several minutes, punctuated by the guard's grunts and moans. There was a particularly loud cry, followed by a heavy sigh. After a pause, the noises began again. After they stopped the second time, Avon opened his eyes. Blake was still on his knees, breathing rapidly, his head held down to the second guard's crotch. The guard smiled and shoved Blake roughly away, then did up his trousers. He looked past Blake's sprawled figure to meet Avon's eyes. "You ought to take lessons from him. He's learned how to give in. You will, too." The guards left, slamming the cell door behind them.

Blake rolled to his feet and went over to the tiny sink provided. He spat into it, rinsed out his mouth, then drank from his cupped hands. He ran his wet hands through his hair, then straightened and returned to the cot where Avon lay, watching him.

"I've been here a long time," he explained, in reply to the silent reproach of Avon's eyes. "That was nothing."

"Nothing? You cooperate with them in the most degrading manner possible and you call it nothing?"

"If you think that was so degrading , you're still an innocent, Avon." Blake cocked his head to one side, considering. "Maybe you are. Although I really don't see how you could have gone through prison on Earth without gaining an education." An eyebrow rose. "Especially with your looks."

The color rose in Avon's cheeks. "I received my 'education', as you call it. But they had to take me, Blake. I never gave myself to any of those bastards."

"Pride is a luxury. If I fought them, I'd be crippled, or worse." Blake looked away from his cell mate, then back. His gaze was as level and self-assured as ever. "I couldn't afford it, not once I learned they'd set a trap for you."

"What has that to do with it?"

"I didn't want to die, and leave you here alone. Why do you think they put you in with me?"

"I assumed in hopes we would say something revealing. We are being monitored, are we not?"

"I think so, yes. But that's only part of it. I paid to have you brought to me. I paid with the only coin I had, willingly."

Avon shook his head. "Are you that desperate for my gratitude? Do you think I will now follow you unswervingly- on the highly remote chance we don't die here- because you have made the ultimate sacrifice for me?"

"Gratitude." Blake laughed, bitterly. "From you? You've made it clear that you despise me, that you wish we had never met."

"I never said that."

"You said it with every look, every sneer, every little arrogant pose. I tried to ignore it for two years. I kept telling myself he really isn't a cold-hearted bastard, he's simply afraid to reach out, to show his true feelings." Blake laughed again, a short, harsh bark. "I fooled myself. I wanted to be your friend, to teach you what friendship meant. What it meant to be loved."

"Oh, I know all about friends and lovers They're the ones who turned me in to the Federation."

"I see." Blake got up and paced the length of the cell. "And naturally, you've decided to make certain that will never happen again by never having another friend or lover."

Avon shrugged. "It worked. I wouldn't have survived this long, otherwise."

"Yes. I see how well you've done."

Stung, Avon replied, "I was fighting the good fight, in your name, for reasons that elude me. I lost the _Liberator_ and Cally looking for you."

"Cally?" Blake gazed at Avon with pity.

"Follow your own advice. Leave it. I'm sorry I told you."

"I'm sorry, too. I had always hoped you and Cally..."

"I said, 'Leave it'."

"What about Vila and Jenna?"

"We never found Jenna. Perhaps she returned to her pirate friends."

"Free traders," Blake corrected, absently. "I hope so. And Vila?"

"I don't know." Abruptly, Avon tried to turn away. He hissed through his teeth at the wave of fresh pain.

Blake was there, holding Avon, and soothing him, rubbing gently over Avon's back. "Don't. I think you've a few cracked ribs."

"Among other things," Avon agreed. "Vila was with me," he said, the words drawn from him unwillingly. "Along with my pilot, and two women."

"Then they might rescue us?"

"I doubt it. I was- distracted- at the time," Avon thought back to himself standing over 'Blake's' corpse. "Tarrant called me as he died. I don't really remember Dayna and Soolin and Vila being killed, but I saw their bodies. No, I don't think we can rely on outside help. Unless you have a few loyal rebels champing at the bit for their chance at a glorious end."

"No."

"No? Whyever not? Have you lost the ability to inspire suicide?"

Blake didn't react to the acid tones. "I don't know what I've lost. Maybe I'm useless without _Liberator_ , without you. There, that should feed your ego. I led rebels on half a dozen worlds. We failed more often than not. I got tired of seeing those young, trusting faces, of watching people die believing in me."

"Yes." Avon's agreement was flat, his gaze distant.

"I found a planet where I couldn't do any harm. On Gauda Prime the Federation is a minor player. The natives and the mining consortiums can slaughter each other entirely without my help. I had a small trading post, and managed well enough."

"Until the bounty hunters came."

"As you say- until the bounty hunters came. I'd become careless and was an easy catch. Servalan heard, somehow, and came for me." Blake gave Avon a sidelong glance. "She paid the hunter in her usual fashion."

Avon grinned. "Scratch one bounty hunter."

"I expected to be taken back to Earth for trial, or shot out of hand, or tortured for old times' sake. Servalan told me I was forgotten back on Earth, that you were the important one now, and I was nothing more than bait. I swear I never did cooperate with her, Avon. I don't know how she used me. I've done nothing but sit in a cell and wait."

Avon frowned. "Orac. It tracked you here. Servalan must have wanted to be sure of Orac. So she had two Blakes. The real one to convince Orac, and a fake to lure me out into the open. It all makes sense, now. Except for one thing. Where is Servalan? Why isn't she here to collect her prizes and gloat?"

"The guards tell me she's on her way. You were a long time coming, Avon. She had other plots to control."

Sensing a rebuke, Avon snapped, "What a pity I kept you waiting. I had other plots of my own to tend. I only came for you when they all fell through."

"I gathered it was something like that." Blake moved closer. "I'm sorry. Sorry that all my dreams led you to this."

Avon relented, and said, in a milder tone,"Well, now, as I told Vila a long time ago, you led, but I chose to follow. For what it's worth."

Blake smiled. "It always meant a lot to me, Avon. Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Avon settled more comfortably on the narrow cot and closed his eyes. Slowly, his breathing evened out.

Blake looked down on the battered face of his friend. "Sorry, Avon," he whispered, leaning close to brush his lips gently over the closed eyes.

Avon's eyes opened, wide and startled. Blake wasn't quite quick enough to put on his bland mask. Avon drew a deep breath, angry, then cried out as the pain struck. "Leave me alone," he said in as threatening a tone as he could manage, pushing Blake's comforting hands aside.

"No. You're hurt."

"I'll kill you if you ever do that again."

"Do what?" Blake said, despairing. "Show that I'm human? Two years is a long time, Avon. Long enough to fall in love, too long to hide it."

"This explains your noble 'sacrifice', anyway. Enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Blake flushed and lifted his hand to strike. At the last instant, he stopped, and patted Avon gently on the cheek. "You aren't that stupid, Avon. Rape is rape regardless of your sexual orientation. It would be different with you."

"No. It would still be rape, only with a different victim."

"Don't you know me better than that? I would have given anything to be your lover- anything except your friendship and the small measure of trust I'd thought I'd earned."

"How did you earn it? By risking my life, by using me at every turn? You may never have had me in your bed, but you might as well have done it."

"What did I do? Seduce you to my cause? Pervert your self-preservation instincts into a quest for justice? Corrupt your cold logic with a touch of humanity? Oh, I do apologize, Avon. For that, and for almost everything else. But I won't beg your forgiveness for loving you. Loving you is punishment enough." He paused, then added, "And reward enough."

"I doubt it."

"It gave me something tangible to fight for, something I could see everyday. On the flight deck, we'd fight, and I'd tell myself, the Federation did this to us, made us afraid of speaking our minds. In a free society, I could have told you I loved you. You'd probably have laughed at me, but at least I could have said it."

"I wouldn't have laughed at you."

"No?"

"I would have broken your neck."

"Would you really?"

Avon couldn't meet Blake's eyes. "Possibly not. I might have settled for breaking your nose."

"That I could believe." Somehow the argument had ended. Avon was no longer tense in Blake's hold.

"You know, we did have enough troubles without your confession," Avon said.

"Still, I'm glad you know."

Avon sighed.

"""

"Get out of the way!"

The shout woke Avon. He was still incredibly weak, and it still ached to draw breath, but he struggled up onto his elbows when he saw the guards had returned and brought several others. Blake was fighting them, barehanded against their numbers and their guns. "Blake, no!" he shouted, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest.

Blake turned toward him, and a rifle butt rose and fell against the rebel's head. Blake crumpled. Avon was out of the cot without realizing it, but the three steps to Blake's side were beyond him. He fell, landing gracelessly on his side. Something gave within, and a rush of blood came from his mouth and nose, choking him, even as a red blur filled his vision. It became impossibly difficult to breathe. He tried to pull himself to Blake, but the red blur deepened to black.

"""

"That was incredibly stupid of you, Avon." Servalan smiled down at him as lovely and lethal as ever, her feminine grace and elegant sable gown contrasting with the hard glitter of her predator's eyes.

Privately, Avon agreed, but he kept his mouth shut and his face blank, denying Servalan her victory. He'd awakened in this convalescent bed over a week ago, unnecessarily tied down, and with the astringent taste of anesthesia lining his throat. The doctor in attendance had hovered, nervous, and exceeding solicitous of Avon's health. The attendants had been even more careful in their tending of his body, but none of them would answer any of his questions, or remove a single one of the restraints. After a week of that, even Servalan's visit was welcome.

"You pierced a lung, with your ridiculous leaping about like a jack in the box. Pointless heroics are Blake's style, not yours."

"What about Blake?"

Having gotten a response, Servalan laughed softly. "Oh, I'd rather talk about you- and Orac. And possibly the drive my men have salvaged from the wreckage of your ship."

Avon's lips tightened, and his eyes blazed.

"Well, if it means that much to you... Blake has a hard head. He's fine. Unless it suits me to have him otherwise." She ran her hand through Avon's hair. "I found it quite amusing, viewing the surveillance record. Who would have ever guessed? Of course, there was his trial...all those sweet little boys... Did you have a comment, Avon? No? Frankly, I never thought he was your type. If you like, I'll kill him for you."

"Don't do me any favors."

"I shouldn't mind. Then I could collect the reward for him. Bureaucracy is so terribly slow to react to shifts in the political tides. While you and I know Blake is a burned-out pathetic shell, they are still eager to pay for his head. And pay very handsomely." She paused. When Avon remained silent , she shrugged. "As you like. I think I'll let my men play with him first."

"No." His hands clenched uselessly; her slender arms were just beyond his reach.

"Why not? Do you perhaps secretly return his affections? I had wondered why you turned down all my offers." She made a moue, her perfect red lips pouting.

"I refused you because you are a serpent, nothing more than an attractive hide wrapped around a venomous soul."

Servalan smiled. "Oh, you do have such a way with words, Avon." She leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "But you'll have to find better ones than that to keep Blake alive. Starting with 'Orac is located at...' ."

"You must think me a fool. Blake and I are dead men the second you lay your hands on Orac."

"Not necessarily. If I turn your corpses in, I receive the reward and the accolade of the Supreme Council. Much though I value their regard..." Servalan smiled even more brilliantly than before. "And much as it would pain me to disappoint them, you are worth more to me alive."

"I find that hard to believe. What is the combined bounty on the two of us - five, six million credits?"

"Something in that neighborhood. But one can always acquire money." She caressed Avon's head, massaging gently at the temples with her fingertips. "There are secrets in your skull, Avon, that no one can buy. I want them. I want Orac. I want the teleport. I want the Star-Drive. And most of all, I want the _Liberator_. "

"Then I suggest a very large butterfly net and a great deal of patience. With the exception of Orac, all the things you want so badly are gone, irretrievably shattered into billions of pieces."

"Then you will recreate them for me."

"One man, to rebuild the ultimate achievements of an alien civilization? And in my spare time I should duplicate the life's work of the top engineer of the Federation's Space Drive Research Centre?"

"Think of it as job security. Besides, I'm not unreasonable; I'll provide you with qualified assistants. Under proper supervision, you may even utilize Orac. To further show my good will, you can even have Blake on your team. His engineering skills may be rusty, but I'm sure you'd find some use for him. Perhaps he could be the tea-lady?"

Despite Servalan's taunting, he was tempted to say 'yes'. He might manage to be well enough to escape, with Blake's assistance, before she thought him well enough to work. Once he agreed, though, he'd have lost what little psychological leverage he had. He'd better ask for everything up front.

"What about my crew? I could use their assistance."

Servalan sighed. "I had wanted to break it to you gently, when you were stronger." She paused, savoring his quiet despair. "They died when you were captured. Surely you knew?"

"I ... hoped some of them survived," Avon replied. Despite all logic, he found it very hard to believe that they were all gone. He tightened his jaw. "I want to see their bodies."

"Avon, no!" Servalan said in mock horror. "Be sensible.They have been dead for over a week."

"You once told me Blake was dead. I need proof."

"Well, you shan't have it. I had their bodies cremated. If you like, I could ask if anyone preserved a handful of ashes for a souvenir."

"I don't believe you. You couldn't collect the bounty on a pile of ash."

"I couldn't very well turn in Avon's crew without people wondering where Avon was. It was a temptation, I admit, to collect the reward through a third party, but I resisted it. Because, dear Avon, I value you so very highly. Don't disappoint me. You have cost me as much as I am inclined to pay."

"I don't really have much choice, do I?" Avon said sourly.

"Not really, no."

"Then I suppose I agree. Get these things off me," he said, lifting his hands to indicate the restraints.

"I rather like you this way. Helpless, vulnerable, at my mercy. "

"If I'm strapped down much longer, I'll be too atrophied to do your bidding."

"There's that. All right, Avon, the restraints will be removed, but on the first sign of any trouble..."

"What? You'll kill me? That would defeat your purpose, would it not?"

"No, I was about to say, I'll have Blake punished. It's unfair, I know, but there it is. I can, and will, take any vengeance you inspire out on him. Since he professes to love you, he probably won't even mind being your whipping boy."

Avon lunged against the straps, teeth bared. Servalan said, "Naughty, naughty. Still, I think I'll overlook it, this time. Next time you offer me any insolence, be prepared to watch Blake suffer for it."

"""

Avon stared sullenly at the viewscreen. Stars, scattered feebly against a pale nebula, stared back at him, unwinking. It was no star pattern he recognized. Neither did Blake, and supposedly none of the co-opted workers knew where they were either. It wasn't easy to tell how long it had been since Servalan had installed them here on this nameless, numberless asteroid, but he estimated two months. Two months of unremitting labor for his greatest enemy. Not counting the time he'd spent recuperating in the bowels of a Space Command cruiser. He'd thought they could escape on Gauda Prime, perhaps to hide in the wilderness, perhaps to hijack a convenient space vessel. Servalan neatly headed that off by loading Avon, convalescent bed and all, onto her ship, and having Blake imprisoned on an accompanying pursuit ship.

"Avon? The materials have arrived." Blake sounded as weary as Avon felt.

Avon didn't respond. He'd seen the ship, one tiny speck of light attracted to their prison. There was no schedule, no announcement of its arrival. Sometimes the supplies came when they were running low, sometimes they came when they barely had room to stow them away. Everything was random, unpredictable. Workers came and went according to Servalan's whims. Guards were rotated infrequently, but often enough to prevent any sympathy developing for the prisoners. The guards were of a type, huge, well-trained, and able to take either Blake or Avon apart with their bare hands. This was a practical necessity, as they had no weapons, nothing to be turned against them.

Punishment was allotted according to those same whims. And always fell on Blake. If Avon fell behind Servalan's undefined quota, Blake was beaten, if Avon was insolent, Blake was deprived of water or food for days, if Avon attempted to escape- the guards were allowed to amuse themselves with Blake. They were free to wander anywhere they liked - on a base half the size of the _Liberator_ 's combined living quarters, with the lone airlock leading to a desolate, airless wasteland. The supply ship was remotely piloted by Orac, under Servalan's direction and with express order never to launch unless both Blake and Avon were safely in their quarters on the base.

He hadn't realized just how much he hated confinement until it became apparent that Servalan could very well keep him and Blake imprisoned here for the rest of their natural lives. He had been sentenced to exile once, but Cygnus Alpha at least afforded the illusion of freedom. He considered suicide from time to time, but boredom, frustration and anger weren't quite enough to make the idea appealing.

"Avon?"

"I heard." Avon gave up contemplating the infinite and turned back to his only remaining friend. Blake insisted on calling them friends, and he didn't care to argue the point.

"They'll be unpacking and stowing supplies for hours."

"We may as well take a break," Avon responded. "It will be impossible to concentrate until they've finished." He tossed the probe he'd been toying with back on the test bench, beside the half-finished Star Drive.

"Right." Blake stretched, and reached a hand over his back to rub at sore muscles, a lingering reminder of the last time Servalan became impatient. "Why don't we eat while we wait?"

Avon frowned. "I'm not hungry." He turned back to the viewscreen.

"Look, I don't mind if you sulk, but I think our mutual friend," he said, indicating one of the ever-present monitors, "might. Come and eat with me, Avon. I could use the company."

"I don't sulk," Avon said. "I am merely thinking."

"You can think and eat at the same time, can't you?"

Avon turned, prepared to give Blake a sharp reply, and changed his mind at the other man's expression. "All right. In my quarters."

The food wasn't bad for pre-cooked, pre-packaged rations, but Avon wasn't interested in it. He pushed the meat-substitute around on the plate, observing the patterns the thin brown sauce made against the white plastic. Blake kept up a running commentary on the work, and the various impersonal aspects of their life. Avon replied in monosyllables, and Blake finally lapsed into silence, broken only by the scrape of cutlery and the hum of the environmental unit. "I'm not very good company, am I?" Avon said, after the silence had become uncomfortable even for him.

"Not here," Blake agreed. His eyes warmed as he added, "but on the _Liberator_..."

"On the _Liberator_ we were at each other's throats constantly."

"Not constantly. We had our moments, us against the universe."

"And the universe won."

"Never when we really worked together." Blake heaved a vast sigh, and pushed his plate away from him. "But I was afraid to get close to you and so I drove you away."

"As I recall it, you're the one who left."

"I had to. The rebellion needed me."

"And we didn't?" Avon's voice rose.

"Not personally. Not as a man." Blake rose abruptly. "I don't think we should get into this subject."

"Why? Because Servalan, or one of her guards, is listening?" Avon leaned back in his seat, and looked up into the blind black eye of one of the ubiquitous monitors.

"Actually, I couldn't care less who was listening, or watching us. It's just that I find it frustrating being in close quarters with you, without being able to do anything!" Blake's fists clenched. "It's been too damn long, Avon. I had to leave the _Liberator_ because I couldn't stand it then, and it's worse now."

"Ah. Wait," Avon said, raising a hand as Blake turned to leave.

"Why? So you can have the pleasure of driving me mad?"

"A short journey, no doubt," Avon murmured, smiling slyly. Blake gave him a dirty look. "Actually, it has occurred to me that we need to adapt to our situation. Either that, or we shall go mad. Servalan has not taken male physiology into account. I too, have needs."

"Complain then. She wants to keep you happy and productive. I'm sure she can provide you with whoever or whatever you need."

"I doubt that." Avon studied Blake's posture, noting the signs of barely checked temper. "And it certainly would do nothing for you."

"I don't matter. I'm only here to hold your tools for you. Servalan made that quite clear." The anger was even closer to the surface.

"Interesting choice of words." Avon stood and ran his hand down the front of his trousers. "Would you like to hold my tool for me?"

Blake turned his back. When he answered his voice was hoarse. "Avon, you really are a bastard."

Avon approached, and spoke softly, breathing warm on Blake's neck, "Thank you. But I was sincere."

"What happened to breaking my neck? Or at least my nose?"

"I changed my mind. I trust you, Blake. God only knows why, but I do. And I need that in a bed partner."

"Even though you don't like men?" Blake had turned back, unable to withstand that silken voice.

Avon grinned, his eyes lit with mischief. "I don't like people, Blake. What has that to do with sex?"

Blake stared at Avon. For all the bold words, there were no outward signs of arousal. "Have you ever made love with a man?"

"I told you about my prison education. I know all the - ins and outs." Avon was enjoying the double entendres and they served to cover his nervousness. He really wasn't sure this was a good idea at all. But there were numerous reasons for it. Not least of all the fact that it would certainly infuriate Servalan that he chose Blake over her. The funny thing was, what he'd told Blake was true. Intimacy without trust totally unmanned him. An odd psychological quirk, to add to his others.

"I'm not talking about rape. Did you ever willingly have sex with a man?"

"Not yet. Blake, you are annoyingly obtuse. According to you, you have desired me for several years. Life is uncertain, take what you want when you can get it." Avon's last words were sharp and stinging.

Blake gnawed on a knuckle, considering. Then he said, "I want you." He put his arms around Avon. "You're shivering."

"It means nothing. Continue."

Blake chuckled and pulled Avon in closer. "I wonder how I'll be punished for this?"

Avon drew back enough to stare into Blake's face. "You won't be. Servalan isn't stupid. She will accede to the necessity of the situation she has created." He put his arms tentatively around Blake. It felt odd having to reach so far to encompass the broad back, but not unpleasant. When Blake's hands rubbed up and down his back, it was even better. Avon always craved warmth, and Blake's embrace was the most soothing warmth he'd felt in years. He relaxed into it.

"That's better." Blake brought one arm back to stroke along Avon's face. "Will you kiss me, Avon?"

"Why not?" Avon lifted his head the necessary inch or so, and opened his mouth. Blake was eager, his moist lips clinging and caressing Avon's, his tongue licking sensuously at the corners before entering. "Bed," Avon muttered, pulling away for an instant.

"Bed?" Blake eyed the table, as if gauging its structural strength and ability to withstand stress.

Avon followed Blake's glance, and raised an eyebrow. "Bed. I am no longer young, and my back isn't what it used to be."

"Oh. In that case, shall I carry you?" Blake's grin was wild and lascivious.

"I think not. You wouldn't be much use to me in traction."

Blake chuckled, and followed as Avon led him to the bedroom. It had a larger sleep platform than any of _Liberator's_ , a few scientific odds and ends piled on a small table, a chair, a recessed wardrobe, and a half-open door leading to a lavatory. "All the comforts of home."

"And a few others." Avon pointed out the ceiling monitor. He disappeared into the lavatory. "One moment." He returned with a small tube, which he handed Blake.

"Are you sure?" Blake said, doubtfully. "You don't have to..."

"Precisely why I want to." Avon began unfastening his jumpsuit. "Hurry up," he snapped, as Blake hesitated, "you'll be punished if we fall behind schedule."

"And do you really care?" Blake's hands worked while he continued to make eye contact with Avon.

"If I didn't care, then why would I be doing this?" He lunged forward, grabbing Blake's shoulders just as Blake freed his arms. The jumpsuit puddled at Blake's feet. After proving that his tongue was just as agile as Blake's, Avon stepped back, removing his boots and shrugging out of the jumpsuit.

"Suddenly, I don't care why you're doing this." Blake stripped, ripping off his boots and tossing his jumpsuit after them. He sighed in relief as his erection sprang free, the heavy head already moist with pre-come.

Avon abruptly turned and went to the bed. He settled onto it, face down, and spread his legs. "Come here, Blake," he ordered. "Fuck me."

Blake came, and planted a kiss on the back of Avon's neck. Avon turned his face aside. "You're shivering again," Blake noted.

"Warm me then," Avon's voice was thin and strained.

"All right, I will." Blake settled on top of Avon. "Can you breathe?"

"Just about," Avon grumbled. He wriggled his arse, rubbing it against the hot, damp staff that pressed along his cleft.

Blake gasped and thrust, pushing Avon forward. "Wait," he managed to choke out. He fumbled for the tube Avon had given him, and twisted the cap off. He squeezed the oily lotion it contained directly onto his cock, and moaned as the coolness inflamed his senses. His erection firmed more as he hurriedly applied the oil. "Just hold on, hold on," he muttered, although it was difficult to tell if he was speaking to Avon or himself. He coated his fingers thickly and rubbed Avon's arse, massaging until the muscles relaxed sufficiently for him to insert a finger. Avon made a soft noise at the intrusion. Two fingers followed, then three.

"Now, Blake, now," Avon sounded desperate.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Avon's hands clenched into the bedclothes.

"Sure?"

"Dammit, Blake!"

Blake chuckled. "Shh. Relax." He ran his hands down Avon's sides, and tried to slide one under Avon's belly.

"No!" Avon flattened himself against the bed.

"You don't like that? All right, then." Blake spread Avon's buttocks. "This is what you want?" he teased, pushing his hips forward to touch his cocktip to the entrance.

"Yes!" Avon pushed up just as Blake thrust. He put his head down into the pillow and moaned as several inches of Blake found their way inside.

Blake grunted and pushed harder, keeping the pace slow, to allow Avon time to adjust. He pulled back, then shoved again, deeper. "Gods, Avon..." Denied the chance to stroke Avon's cock as he was stroked, Blake grasped Avon's shoulders firmly, holding him in place against the increasingly violent thrusts.

"Oh, Avon..." Blake paused, trembling, as he achieved full penetration, his balls tight and hot against the silken warmth of Avon's arse. "I love you," he whispered.

"Get on. With. It." Breathless and shaking, Avon forced the words out. Blake's slow, deliberate pace was agony for him. Blake's hips rotated, stretching Avon wide to ease the passage. Avon whimpered, and put his teeth in his arm to keep from screaming. Blake was big in him, filling him nearly beyond bearing. The guards and fellow prisoners who'd raped him so very long ago had always been in a hurry. None of them stayed within him this long. A quick, painful penetration, followed by several fierce pumps, and then the bruising clench as they orgasmed. It took him longer to clean up afterward than the act itself.

He'd known, objectively, that it wasn't going to be like that with Blake, but it was only now sinking in fully what the reality would be like. It seemed endless. Blake's hips thwacked against his arse, spanking him without at the same time he was being screwed, shoved so hard into the mattress that the bed supports compressed his genitals with each stroke.

Blake was power ; a raw, irresistible force of nature. Big hands forced their way around Avon's chest, keeping his back crushed to Blake's sweaty, smooth-skinned chest. His legs were forced further apart by the hairy thighs crowding between them. Confined, conquered, and utterly controlled, Avon moaned. He felt the quiver of Blake's balls, hard knots digging into his buttocks, and knew Blake was approaching the edge. The man had been celibate so long it was a wonder he'd held out until now.

The cock buried itself into Avon's core. He would have sworn he could feel each vein and ridge on the massive organ. He waited, expecting to feel his arse pulsing with life, Blake's life.

"A- von, I want to see. See you," Blake's throaty guttural words were difficult to make out. Dazed as he was, it took several repetitions before Avon understood. He tried to protest, but nothing emerged but a low groan. "Have to see you." Avon fought, feebly, but Blake withdrew and turned him onto his back.

Desperate, Avon lifted his legs and wrapped them around Blake's waist, pulling the other man to him, into him even deeper than before. He arched upward, arms clinging to Blake's broad shoulders, as he fought to bring his mouth to Blake's. Blake was already thrusting wildly into the shuddering man beneath him. Restraint gone, Avon screamed only seconds before Blake gave a wild bull's bellow and came, clutching Avon's arse to his loins while he pulsed in long, hot spurts, hips whipping in short, hard thrusts until he'd emptied his aching balls. He collapsed on Avon, breathing heavily. Avon was clenched around Blake's shaft, the stimulation keeping him full and ready, even if he hadn't the strength to move at the moment.

"Don't move," Avon whispered into his ear, when they had finally caught their breath.

Blake smiled at Avon, face oddly distorted from a bare inch away. "You like having me on top of you?"

"I hate it," Avon snarled, soft as a breath, but vicious.

Instinctively, Blake flinched.

Avon's arms clamped around him. "No," Avon whispered, putting his mouth to Blake's ear. "I didn't go through all that for nothing. Listen, Blake, the monitor above my bed is defective. It cannot distinguish whispers. The visual unit is unimpaired, but so long as we appear to have an innocent reason for intimacy we can talk."

Blake pulled back, but Avon was unshakable, wrapped around the bigger man's torso with arms and legs, arse clutching Blake's still erect cock. "Orac has been trying to contact us. A word at a time, hidden in the messages Servalan relays. It wants to plan our escape. I had to tell you, I need your help."

"Was there no other way?" Blake whispered, cold fire in every word. He lowered himself heavily, deliberately hurting Avon with his weight.

Avon's face went blank. "None I could think of. Believe me, I tried. What are you complaining about? You got what you wanted."

"And you got nothing out of it?" Blake accused.

"What do you think?" Avon grabbed Blake's right hand and pulled it between them.

Blake's face changed, regret and shame replacing the anger. "I'm sorry." He shifted his weight, easing back slightly.

"Don't move. If Servalan sees me like this, she'll know it was only an act. We can't afford to rouse her suspicions."

"Then we'll have to rouse something else." Blake kissed Avon deliberately. "This time, dammit, you'll have to do better than imitate an inflatable toy. Close your eyes, dream about women, or money, or God-damn computers if that's what it takes." Blake leaned forward over Avon, to snatch the tube of oil from the table where he'd dropped it earlier. He poured a palmful into his hand, then reached between them once more.

Avon shuddered as Blake's hand molded to his groin, fondling his cock and gently rolling his balls within their sac. He looked up into Blake's face, the grim determination at odds with the gentle, almost delicate, exploration he was conducting.

"You didn't like it rough," Blake explained, as he pressed his lips to Avon's forehead, "so we'll do it my way, this time." He thrust minutely, changing angles slightly with each movement, until the limp cock he caressed twitched and began to fill. "That's it, Avon," he crooned, loud enough for the monitors. "That's what you need, isn't it?" His eyes were cold, but only Avon could see them. To outside observers, Blake was lost in passion.

Only Avon saw the pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered when Blake bent to give him another technically perfect, but soulless, kiss.

"Why?" Blake grunted as he thrust harder, having located the angle that bumped his cockhead into Avon's prostate gland, mechanically inducing an erection in the other man. "I got mine." Deftly, his thumb rubbed into the slit of Avon's penis, the rest of his hand rhythmically contracting around as much of the shaft as he could reach. "You have such a nice, tight arse, Avon, love." The treatment was working, rapidly, as blood rushed to stiffen the burgeoning erection.

Avon arched and twisted. He panted, finding it hard to draw breath between the steady pounding up his arse and the slick, practiced hands pulling on his organ, wandering down at intervals to tug on his testicles. "Please, Blake," he gasped, "please."

"What do you want, Avon?" Blake tightened his grip and Avon lurched in reaction, hips rising to meet Blake's thrust, impaling himself fully. "Ah," Blake threw his head back and groaned. "Little whore," he whispered, "you like to put on a show, don't you?" He released Avon's cock, which now stretched upward in a taut, graceful arc to tap against Avon's lean stomach. His hands settled on Avon's hips and guided him as Blake rolled onto his back. "I've got you all ready for company," he whispered, touching the flushed head of Avon's penis. "Go on, strut, you little cock of the walk. Show Servalan just how you like to be fucked. I'm sure she'll be fascinated." He pulled Avon down, forcing a groan of mingled pleasure and pain out of the man squirming on his cock.

"Don't, Blake," Avon begged, hands flattened onto Blake's chest, sliding across the sweaty smooth expanse of banded muscle. "Please, don't make me do this."

"I'm not making you do anything." Blake's hands opened, to smooth down Avon's flank lightly. "Do it to yourself." He put his hands above his head and smiled. "Ride me, Avon! " he shouted.

"Blake," Avon whispered, despairing. He had never meant to hurt the other so, never meant to turn love to hatred. Only now that it was too late, did he see that he loved Blake. Leader, father-figure, brother in arms, childlike in his dreams- and his vulnerability, Blake was everything Avon needed. And he'd spoiled it, like he spoiled everything.

He began moving as Blake directed, wanting only to get this over with. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort, which somehow increased his excitement, and rode Blake.

Blake accepted his role, snorting and bucking like a great stallion, his hips lifting to double the force of their coupling. His nostrils flared, and his eyes, those soft, compassionate eyes, were wild with rage.

At the apex of one of Blake's more powerful thrusts, Avon came, helplessly convulsing, his hands frantically seeking something to hold himself secure. He found Blake's hands, and clung as the shock rippled through him. He made a protesting noise as Blake moved, flinging Avon onto his back, lifting Avon's knees over Blake's shoulders. He didn't understand what was happening until Blake slammed into him full force, the rock-hard penis driving through Avon's contractions deeper than anyone had ever gone, at the moment when he was most sensitive. He screamed and fought, his legs pushing , but that merely tightened the muscle around Blake's cock, increasing his pain and the other's pleasure. He could get no leverage and scrabbled blindly at the bedding while Blake's swollen organ pumped, fast and furious, each stroke stabbing, burning as he was stretched and bruised and rubbed raw. Blake stopped, suddenly, face glistening with the effort of impaling Avon, grunted, then pushed hard one last time, his hands holding Avon splay-legged against him. Avon felt the jump of Blake's balls, hard as clenched fists, beating his already wounded arse, then came the rush of fluid, hot as hate, burning into him. He tried weakly to pull away, but Blake kept him pinned until the last tremor of pleasure finished.

Blake withdrew, and knelt, panting, over Avon for several minutes. He rose then, without saying anything and left the bed.

Avon shivered and curled up slightly, eyes wide and sightless. He wasn't thinking, or feeling, just lying there numb and mindless. He cried out, suddenly, without realizing he'd done it, as something cold touched his buttocks.

"Lie still." The voice of reason, the voice of authority. Blake was back. Avon's shivering increased. He allowed Blake to probe him for injury, to bathe him, even to change the sodden bedding, all without a word, or meeting the other's eyes. When all was done, Blake pulled the blanket over Avon, and turned, as if to leave. He stood in the doorway for what seemed to Avon a very long time, then he sighed and returned to the bed, sliding himself under the covers, and taking Avon in his arms.

"I must have been insane," he whispered, burying his head in the hollow of Avon's shoulder. "I could have killed you."

Avon lifted a trembling hand. "I think we have both been insane." He touched Blake's face, coming back with damp fingers. He put them to his lips, tasting the sweetness of tears. "If you can forgive me, I can forgive you."

"Oh, Avon." Blake put his arms around his lover. "What are we to do?"

"Survive," Avon replied, moving slightly until the worst of his bruises were no longer pressing on the mattress. "Escape. And possibly, find happiness."

Blake settled against him, apparently for the night. "Avon?"

"Yes?" came the weary reply.

"Are we going to have to do that every time we need to talk?"

Avon drew a deep breath. "For my part, some less violent variant would be appreciated."

"We could just get under the covers and pretend."

Avon wriggled in closer to Blake and sighed. "I don't want to."

"All right. Forget it. Maybe we can pass written messages."

"Don't be absurd. I just told you, I don't want to pretend."

After a pause, Blake said, "Does that mean you want to do it?"

"If by 'do it', you mean have sex with you, the answer is 'yes'. Now shut up, and let me get some sleep. Once those supplies are unpacked, it's back to the salt mines for us."

"Yes, Avon," Blake said, mildly, "whatever you say."

"Fine," Avon murmured, "now, you listen to me."

"""

"Are you all right?"

"For the fifth time, yes, Blake, I am all right. I do wish you would stop hovering." They had returned to the workroom, where they were examining the newest parts made to Avon's and Orac's specifications. Wanting as much privacy as possible, Avon had dismissed his assistants to rest after the unloading of the supplies. Of course, he couldn't dismiss the guards. There was always at least one of them in the workroom, making certain Avon didn't produce a death-ray out of rubber bands and discarded plastic utensils.

"Then I'll check out the power cable for the next stage of the sub-assembly," Blake said, "Unless you need me?"

"I can manage on my own for five minutes, thank you." Avon pushed past Blake, annoyed by his limp, by Blake's smothering, guilt-ridden attempts to atone for Avon's limp, and by the guards' smirking comments about his limp. A recalcitrant Star-Drive was a delight by contrast. He bent over at the workbench, ignoring the seat beside it, to compose his next request for information on the proposed escape to Orac. It was no easy task, as his assistants had to approve the message as directly relevant to the project before it would be transmitted. He was concentrating on his task to the exclusion of all else. Consequently, when he was grasped from behind and pulled back hard against a muscular body, his yell was as much from surprise as pain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He twisted enough to glare over his shoulder at his attacker. It was one of the guards, one of the ones who most enjoyed Blake's punishment details. They were alone and the room monitor's active light was dark, indicating a malfunction. Engineered by this fellow, no doubt.

"Come on, Kerry, you don't fool me, this is how you like it. You should have told me sooner. I would have been happy to service you any time."

"Servalan will have your head for this," Avon put all the menace at his command into that hissed remark.

The guard laughed. "You'll have my 'head', right up your arse, where it'll do us both the most good." He fumbled at the fastenings to Avon's trousers.

"No!" Avon tried to free himself, but the guard merely pushed forward, pinning Avon's arms against the workbench, while he yanked the trousers down around Avon's knees.

"Won't be a minute. Don't be so impatient, pretty." The guard put one heavy hand on the back of Avon's neck, shoving him down flat across the scattered tools and components covering the table. He pushed his cock into Avon, grunted once, then began thrusting. "Tell anyone, and I'll do your friend even better."

Avon squeezed his eyes shut, and prayed that Blake would not return to see this. He bit at his lip to keep quiet. With no lubricant and no preparation, he was not surprised to feel himself tear. The guard grunted and moaned, panting for breath as he pumped, his harsh noises loud in the stillness of the workroom.

"Avon, I couldn't find... Avon!" Blake's roar was probably heard the length of the base. Abruptly, the guard was pulled away from Avon, his cock clinging painfully for a moment.

Avon's knees collapsed, and he found himself on the floor. Behind him, Blake's growl drowned out the guard's curses, but not the heavy impacts of two large men colliding. Before he could pull himself together to see what was happening, Blake was at his side.

"You're bleeding."

"So are you," Avon commented. Blake had a split lip and a dripping line along one cheekbone. Blake touched the cut.

"You should see the other guy."

Avon peered past Blake's shoulder. The guard lay in an unnaturally crumpled heap. "Unconscious?"

"Dead. I broke his neck," Blake remarked with satisfaction. "Let's get you to the medical unit. Can you walk?"

"Yes." Avon allowed Blake to help him to his feet and pull his trousers up. "Servalan isn't going to like this. Neither are the other guards."

"I don't care." Blake's look was fierce. "No matter what they do to me for it, I'm glad I killed him. I wish I could have destroyed Servalan and the entire Federation at the same time."

"I thought you'd given that up. Retired from revolution. You were tired, you said. All you wanted was a quiet, obscure life on some remote world."

"I was wrong."

"A momentous occasion. Blake admits fallibility. Pity I haven't a recording device." He gestured at the dead monitor. "We can talk freely for the moment, although I don't know that I want to hear another diatribe on the rights of the rabble."

"Avon." Blake's glance was affectionate as well as exasperated. "As long as the Federation exists, and produces creatures like that to enforce its rule, I have to fight it. Are you with me?"

"Naturally. It will take both of us to carry out our escape."

"I meant after that."

"To conduct your hopeless battle against the Federation?"

"That's part of it. I also want you, Avon. On any terms you'll allow. My friend, my adversary, my lover, any role you're willing to accept."

"I am not an easy person to love," Avon warned.

"True. Fortunately, I don't give up easily." Blake's grin was wide and bright, despite the split lip.

Avon reached up to wipe away the blood. "Yes, well, it's probably a very stupid idea, but I haven't had any better offers lately."

Blake looked uncertain. "Is that a 'yes'?"

"Probably."

"""

Servalan was annoyed about the incident when it was reported to her, but did not order Blake punished. Avon was a valuable property and she made it quite clear to her people that she would not abide them damaging him without her direct orders.

She called the base and had all the personnel gather in the main room to hear her displeasure. "If Avon ever dies- for whatever reason-, I will have all of you shot. If he is temporarily incapacitated, I will have the one responsible shot. There is to be no interference in the personal activities of the prisoners." Even over a grainy video-link, her anger was obvious. "Their disgusting depravity is fairly common among rebels, a genetic flaw, which we, as their moral superiors, must deplore."

Out of the corner of his eye, Avon noted Blake's bland non-reaction to this nonsense. How could she reconcile that statement with the fact that her morally superior troops had previously raped Blake on her orders, with every evidence of enjoyment during the process? He should know, they had held him to one side and made him watch.

She continued, "My new advisor tells me that the first project will be completed within the next month." Her fingernails tapped on something hard, just out of sight of the camera. She smiled. "I will not abide any delays. Remember, I can punish, or I can reward. The choice is up to you."

After she abruptly cut the communication, Avon turned to Blake. "It's good to have one's true worth appreciated."

Blake rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Oh, I appreciate you, Avon." His eyes crinkled with amusement. "I'll appreciate you any chance I get." He patted Avon on the arse, as the guards looked aside with carefully cultivated grimaces of disgust.

"Later."

"""

"Oh, Avon." Blake groaned as he mounted his lover. His eyes closed, as his cock found its way in between Avon's parted legs with the sureness of weeks of practice. Daily sex had done wonders for Blake's disposition. The escape plan was no more than a vague promise, a few whispers in the dark, but he did not press Avon to hurry Orac's machinations.

Avon adjusted his position, relaxing his muscles to allow Blake a smooth entry. While he often goaded Blake, and was the aggressor verbally, somehow when they reached the bed he always yielded the dominant role. Blake didn't mind, although he'd offered to switch places. He put his arms around Blake, pulling the broad chest down to cover him completely. He nibbled at Blake's ear. "Orac is bringing us a ship," he breathed.

Blake's eyes opened, but he made no response. He licked the side of Avon's neck and sucked hard, to leave a mark of his possession.

Avon decided to wear a low-necked shirt so the mark would show. It annoyed the guards to see what they couldn't have. His hips rose to meet Blake's thrusts.

"What kind of ship?" Blake murmured, his curly head bowed. He reached down to wrap one slick hand around Avon's firming cock. Sometimes he sucked Avon to erection before taking him, but he didn't always have the patience to wait.

"Pur- Ah!" Avon arched, his head digging into the pillow, as Blake made a circling thrust that completed Avon's arousal. He blinked and glared at Blake's smug grin. "You did that deliberately," he accused. "I've a mind not to tell you the rest."

"Just because I did this?" Blake whispered, and squeezed Avon's genitals as he repeated the circling motion. He pulled out, and rested on his knees.

"Ah, ah. Blake!" Avon tossed sweaty hair out of his eyes. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get back to work." He reached down to his cock. "Unless you want me to do it myself?"

Blake chuckled and swatted Avon's hands aside to grasp the organ himself. "No, Servalan wouldn't like it if you hurt your hands. I'm your tool holder, remember?"

"Then..." Avon's mouth dropped and his eyes shut in pleasure as Blake filled him once more. He wrapped his legs around Blake's waist to prevent another withdrawal.

"Mmmm." Blake quickly regained his rhythm, plunging rapidly into Avon's tight warmth. "Tell me, what ship?" he whispered.

"Pursuit. Servalan's." Avon gasped for breath as Blake rode him with increasing strength, each hard rub against his prostate sending pulses of sensation into his weeping cock. "Coming soon."

"Me, too," Blake replied, clutching Avon to his breast. Muscles bunched in his back, sweat collected in runnels down his heaving chest, sliding along Avon's belly, moistening Avon's cock held captive between them.

"The ship. You idi... AH!" Avon lurched against Blake, orgasm having caught him unawares. He released his grip and collapsed back onto the bed, giving Blake a tired grin. "Beat you, again."

Puffing and blowing, Blake frowned. "I need. To be in. You deeper." He lifted Avon's legs, placing the knees over his shoulders. "Brace yourself."

Avon grabbed the sides of the bed. He moaned softly as Blake's cock drove home. At this angle Blake filled his guts easily, using his weight and leverage to treat Avon like a toy. At any other time, he would resent being used for another's pleasure, but somehow pleasing Blake had become more important than his pride. Having Blake's huge cock inside him was satisfying, proving that he could do what no one else could. He was Blake's lover, Blake's necessity. Even when it hurt, he liked it. The stretched full feeling of surrounding that thick organ, the scratch of Blake's coarse pubic hair against his arse, the delightful wickedness of surrendering totally to what Servalan considered depraved- oh, getting fucked by Blake was worth any amount of compromise. He tightened his arse deliberately, increasing the pressure on the buried cock along with his discomfort.

Blake grunted in acknowledgement of Avon's impatience. He popped out with a liquid slurp as he pulled back too hard. 'Damn'. Quickly he reinserted himself, fumbling to spread Avon's moist buttocks with one hand as he guided himself back in place with the other.

"Patience," Avon said, wincing as Blake's first thrust missed with a bruising jar.

"Screw that. And screw you." Blake was always crude when he was fully roused. He found his target. "Got you." He reared above his lover, wildly thrusting, then shouted and pushed hard, toes clawing at the sheets as he tried to force himself further into Avon.

He collapsed then, curling Avon beneath him.

Avon wrapped his arms and legs around Blake and shoved, managing after several tries to maneuver the larger man onto his side. "Now, about that ship," he whispered.

Blake groaned and pulled Avon closer. "Can it wait a few minutes?"

"What's the matter, getting old?"

"You'll be the death of me yet," Blake mumbled.

"Not if you listen to me."

"All right, but make it quick. I'm tired."

"I can't think why- oh, very well," Avon said, as Blake's hand had taken hold of him in a delicate area. "Tomorrow, then, we will begin."

"""

The workroom was tidier than usual, tools stowed away, and excess parts returned to inventory. The Star- Drive was complete. Avon's assistants were in the main living quarters, celebrating the respite from their demanding boss, leaving Avon and Blake in relative privacy. Unless you were counting the guards, ever on hand. Avon studied the thing he and Blake had built at Servalan's command. "What's the matter?" he asked Blake, seeing the other man's frown.

"It'll work."

"Of course it will work. Unless these ham-handed bunglers Servalan has seen fit to saddle us with have sabotaged it. The calculations balance, and Orac confirms the initial tests were well within acceptable parameters."

"And the Federation will have it." Blake picked up a heavy spanner, and swung it gently, while staring thoughtfully at the Star-Drive unit.

"Give me that!" Avon snatched the spanner and put it aside. "You are not going to destroy my chance."

"What chance? We're slaves, you know that. As soon as you run out of ideas Servalan can use, we'll be an expensive liability. We should smash this now."

"And die? Don't be an imbecile." Avon glared at Blake. "You may be willing to give up your life for the masses, but I am no sacrificial lamb. Die if you must, but leave me out of it."

"Avon." Blake stepped forward, arms spread wide. "I thought we understood each other. I thought you loved me."

The guards were intent on their conversation. Avon noticed that, frowned, then ignored them. He told Blake in a clear, ringing voice,"You have been deluding yourself. I told you, you were the only available sexual release for me. I indulged your fantasies in order to keep my hormonal levels from interfering with my work and my survival. Anything more than that was purely your imagination."

"No, Avon," Blake's protest was drawn out, a pained groan. "You don't mean that. You can't."

"Obviously, I have miscalculated your intelligence. Very well, I will be blunt. You are no longer welcome in my quarters."

"I see." Blake's face was set and grim. "And will you ask Servalan to kill me, to spare yourself the sight of me?"

Avon waved the idea away. "No. You won't get on my conscience if that's what you're thinking. I haven't got one. And you are a better engineer than any of my other assistants. Do your work, stay out of my way, and I'll be satisfied."

"Will you?"

"Not really, but I doubt Servalan is going to offer me anyone to my taste." Avon's lips twisted in a sneer. "You are coarse, and plebian, Blake. Unimaginative. And male. Literally, you were my last choice- only preferable to Federation guards and these half-wit technicians. Go about your work, now." He turned and began to walk away.

"Avon," Blake's soft voice stopped Avon. "I really do love you. That's the only reason I won't interfere with your 'work'. Because Servalan would kill you if I did."

Avon turned back, and gave Blake a brilliant smile. "In that case, you may continue to serve me. As an engineer. If it gives you some perverse pleasure to watch me, I don't really care. Eventually, the power I can give Servalan will enable her to provide me an existence more appropriate to my sensibilities. Unlike you, I have finally stopped butting my head against the wall. The Federation is a massive, endlessly rolling machine; it makes its own road, unaffected by human morals or such intangibles as justice and freedom. It cannot be destroyed; its course cannot be altered. No matter how many brave, mindless bodies you throw under its wheels. Their blood lubricates it. That is all. I should much rather be riding it, than be ground beneath."

"I'm sorry for you, Avon."

"Fine. Be sorry." Avon picked up a notepad and began checking off items. "And bring in the first box marked 'Scorpio Teleport'. Time to begin the next project."

"""

For the next month, they labored on the teleport, without success. Avon treated Blake exactly like any other worker, specifically, he berated him, snapped at the least delay or mistake, and was in general spiteful. From demanding, he went to vicious. The assistants lived in terror. No matter what they did, it was wrong. They thought Avon had been hard on them before, now they realized he had been mellow and kindly, in comparison to the ogre who stamped around the workroom, glaring.

Blake was beaten several times, while Avon watched, arms crossed and face totally blank and unaffected. Avon became insomniac, wandering about the base at all hours, muttering to himself about the recalcitrant teleport and trying to pick fights with the guards who remembered Servalan's warning, and didn't dare retaliate directly, so they made life hell on the workers, and on Blake.

 

Avon was having a typical raging tantrum one day, ripping up and throwing sheets of painstakingly derived computations in Blake's face, when the room went silent behind him. There was an unusual quality to the stillness that drew his attention. He spun on his heel, leaving the red-faced, sullen, Blake to glare at his back.

Servalan stood there, poised gracefully at the entrance, snowy-furred boa dripping off one arm, to trail along the floor. She smiled, and Avon returned it, slowly, with appreciation. "Well, now," he purred. "We have a visitor. Blake, pick up that mess." Without looking to see if his order was obeyed, Avon stepped over the papers and approached Servalan.

She offered him her hand, and he took it, raising it to his lips in a blatant mockery of gallantry. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"

Coy and coquettish, Servalan tipped her head and batted her eyelashes. "I have heard, Avon, that you are not entirely happy. This distresses me no end."

"And the fact that the work does not progress?"

She tilted her head in acknowledgement. "That too, is a cause for some concern. I do hope, dear Avon, that you are not obstructing the project."

"Why should I do that? Do you think I enjoy failure?" Avon waved around the room, taking in the frightened technicians, the brooding Blake, and guards trying to blend in with the walls. "Do you think I enjoy staring at these imbeciles while they give me excuses?" He nearly shouted the last.

Servalan put a hand on his upraised arm. "I think you are overwrought. Too much stress. Too little relaxation."

Avon sneered, but his eyes lingered on hers. "Yes, I forgot to bring my Mah-Jongg set along with me. I assure you, I am doing the best I can, under the circumstances."

"Oh, I do believe you, Avon." Servalan caressed Avon's arm. "Perhaps I have been too strict with you. All work and no play..."

"Ah, I see. It is my fault." Avon turned and took several quick, strides away from her, as if her could not stand still another moment. "Because I do not 'play', I am a dull boy."

"Avon, come, let us discuss this in private."

"Private?" Avon surveyed Servalan, from heavy-lidded eyes to sultry hips, and back again. "That may not be wise. As you see, my temper has not been entirely even of late."

"And you are concerned for my safety?"

"Only insofar as it affects mine. I do not think I would long outlive you."

"Dear boy, I shall trust you- as you must learn to trust me." Servalan took Avon's arm. "Your quarters are this way, I believe?"

Avon smiled and followed her. He did not look back to see how Blake felt about his meeting with their mutual enemy.

"It isn't very grand, I'm afraid," Avon commented as he led the way into his room. "I can only offer you a reconstituted beverage- at that, nothing alcoholic."

"No matter." Servalan seated herself on the lone chair as if it were a throne. "This is a business discussion. I have come to offer you a deal."

"We already have a deal- one in which all the advantages are yours. I work, you let me live."

"You and Blake. Do you now wish to leave Blake out of it? I can still collect the reward for him."

"No," Avon replied after a judicious moment of thought. "Personally, the man annoys me, but he is a superior engineer, and invaluable to the work. I would never have guessed aboard the _Liberator_. Somehow, he was always too busy leading to get his hands dirty." Avon sneered. "At least now, I give him orders. That is some small satisfaction."

"But not enough?"

"Never enough. I must admit I am constantly disappointed by the meager rewards life offers an ambitious man."

"Perhaps that is because your ambitions were misdirected. I am seriously considering offering you a partnership. To start, greater freedom for you, a more congenial working environment, some of the luxuries a person of your obvious refinement would appreciate."

Avon's eyebrows rose. "Why? What can you gain by this?"

"For one thing, I believe you will function better in a less repressive atmosphere. For another..." She paused, smiled brightly, and reclined in the chair, running her hands down her sides. "I am neither coarse, plebian, nor unimaginative. And very far from male."

Avon's eyes narrowed as his words to Blake came back at him. "I had noticed." He turned aside, and paced the width of the room. "A personal partnership?"

"A very personal partnership."

"The last time you made that offer, I had Orac and the _Liberator_. I cannot, in all conscience, rate my charms that highly."

Servalan laughed. "I can. Do you have any idea how weary I have become of the spineless fools who now serve under me? I would like to have a real man in my bed."

"One who will serve under you, no doubt," Avon replied, sourly.

"You didn't seem to mind with Blake," Servalan snapped.

Avon shrugged. "Necessity. As I'm sure you learned from the surveillance records. I do not think I could have performed it - the other way around. I would not chance Blake's pity, if I failed." He showed his teeth. "And that is another reason why our partnership is impossible."

"You think you would fail with me, Avon?" Servalan's eyes were wide, in patently false astonishment.

"You are beautiful. Exciting. Desirable. Being in the same room with you makes me ache," Avon said honestly, "But I do not trust you. And, as I'm sure your little electronic eavesdroppers have told you, that creates a problem for me."

"Not an insurmountable one. You could learn to trust me, Avon, learn to love me."

Avon waved, indicating their stark surroundings. "Can a prisoner ever learn to trust his jailer?"

"What if you weren't a prisoner? I've brought my ship, the latest mark pursuit ship, as a present for you."

"Am I supposed to believe that you will simply hand over a ship to me?"

"Well, no, it's not quite that simple."

"How simple is it?"

"I want you to install your Star-Drive in my ship, and come back with me to Earth. I will use the drive to convince the High Council that you are rehabilitated and too valuable to waste. It shouldn't be difficult, as it's the truth. In return, they will issue you a full pardon and provide the funds for your new laboratory."

"You'd give the High Council the Star-Drive?"

Servalan shrugged. "I don't think they'd settle for anything less as a sign of good faith."

"And Orac? The teleport? _Liberator_? "

Servalan's smile widened with each word. "You and I would make better use of them. The Council can't ask for what it doesn't know exists."

"It seems an overly complex scheme. What if I simply kill you and take the ship? You are desirable, yes, and it would be sweet to possess you, but liberty is sweeter still."

Servalan laughed. "Oh, Avon, haven't you learned yet? You and I, we are alike, we are destined to be together. We have quarreled, not because of our differences, but our similarities. We are both greedy, amoral, ambitious animals. When we combine forces we will both achieve our ultimate desires. You found the garments of a rebel hero ill-fitting and uncomfortable, didn't you? Other people's safety to worry about, other people's morals to contend with, other people's promises to keep... Other people are meaningless. You and I, we are the only real people in the universe, the only ones who know what must be done, and do it, without agonizing over the inescapable fact that some must suffer for us to prevail."

Avon moved closer to her as she talked, as if hypnotized. He said softly, "Ah, you do know me, I must admit that. It is very tempting." He pulled her to him for a savage kiss, arms clenched tightly around her.

Servalan put her hands up, grasping his head as if she would merge them into one being. She moaned around his mouth as he made half-serious bites into her shoulder, then neck and base of throat. She stretched her neck, allowing it. Her hands wandered over Avon's shoulders, finding and following the line of his backbone down to his buttocks. She caressed the taut mounds, then slid her hands over the sharpness of hipbones around to his groin. His penis was swelling within the loose folds of the prisoner's jumpsuit. She pressed her hands to him, feeling the pulse within, but when she rubbed at him, he went slack.

Abruptly, he pulled away, and turned, stiff-backed with anger, and frustration. He slammed his fist into the wall. "Get out."

"Avon?"

"Get out!" Avon whirled to face her. He was wild-eyed, and pale, as if shocked. "It won't work, don't you see that? Get out and leave me alone."

"I won't give up on you," Servalan said, shaken. She straightened out her gown. "You will learn to love me."

"Will I?"

"Oh, yes. It is, as I have said, inevitable." Servalan turned for the door. "I have already ordered the Star-Drive unit to be placed aboard my ship. After you install it, we will leave for Earth." She paused in the doorway. "I have wanted you for a long time, Avon. I always get what I want."

"No matter the cost to others?" Avon asked softly, after she left.

"""

"Just shut up, Blake," Avon said wearily. He lay back, hands folded behind his head, on his cot in the small compartment allotted to him and Blake. Pursuit ships did not have much extra space, but forcing them to share this tiny cell was a deliberate insult on Servalan's part. It was also an effective punishment. For both of them.

"You can't be thinking of joining her."

"I can. And I am. The more you protest, the more attractive it sounds."

Blake turned anguished eyes to Avon, who sneered. "Avon, giving her the Star-Drive was bad enough."

"You helped, as I recall. If the hero of the masses can collaborate with the enemy to save his own miserable neck, why shouldn't I?"

"I couldn't leave you alone. You've always been vulnerable to her. You need my help."

Avon rose up on one elbow. "Listen to me, Blake. I'm going to tell you this for the last time. I don't need you for anything. I never did."

"Oh, Avon." Blake fell to his knees beside the cot, and enfolded Avon in his arms. He kissed Avon.

"No!" Avon shouted, pushing Blake to the deck. He stood over the other man, fists clenched. "You will keep your damn hands to yourself, or I'll kill you, just as I did your double." He leaned over to hiss into Blake's face, "Sickening, sycophantic, self-righteous, saintly Blake. You turn my stomach. "

"Avon," Blake said, pleading.

Avon went back to his cot, lay down and turned his face to the wall, ignoring the other man. Blake was still trying to talk to him when the guard came for Avon several minutes later.

 

As ever, Servalan's attire was spectacularly incongruous with her role as military leader. But this particular gown was beyond anything Avon had ever seen. The material was sheer black silk, shot through with silver threads, and adorned with silver and black feathers that fluttered like live things with her every breath. It was cut from her neck to her navel, and slit up the sides to her waist. If she moved too quickly in any direction, everything would be on display. "Dismissed," she told the guard who'd accompanied Avon. The guard saluted and left, leaving Avon to wonder at her latest ploy.

Avon stood, silent, watching as she leaned negligently across the expanse of white satin covering her bed to pick up a bottle. She poured two glasses, releasing the scent of a rich red wine. "Help yourself," she said.

"I think I will." Avon came close, and accepted the glass. He inhaled its fragrance, smiled, and took a sip. " Very nice." He gazed around the room. "An improvement over my own quarters."

"These could be your quarters." Servalan patted the bedspread beside herself. "Come. Help yourself," she repeated.

Avon hesitated, then downed the last of the drink. "I think I will." He sat down beside her.

"Don't be shy," she urged, putting her arms around his neck.

"I'll try not to." He closed his eyes, and kissed her, hard, combining lust and anger. She responded eagerly.

"Avon," she murmured, while his hands roamed over her body finding the delicate clasps that held the silk gown together. One by one, they snapped, ripping the fabric.

"My gown," she protested, but not very strongly.

"It was in my way." He nuzzled between her bared breasts. "What do you do when something's in your way?"

"This." Servalan's claws raked at Avon's jumpsuit, tearing the zipper open and inflicting long, bleeding scratches on his torso. He arched away, hissing at the pain, but immediately returned, lying heavily on her.

"You want me angry?" he asked, his eyes feral. "You like it rough?"

"Sometimes," Servalan admitted. "This time." She bit at his shoulder, drawing blood. "I've been waiting a long time."

"Then take it," Avon snarled, reaching down to align his erection with her vagina. His fingers encountered slippery wetness. He smiled. "You have been thinking about me, haven't you?"

"Yes." Servalan threw her head back into the pillow as Avon filled her. "Yes! Ah, yes, Avon."

He thrust hard several times, panting with the effort. "Bitch," he whispered, "you eat men alive. I'd like to screw you to death."

Servalan opened her eyes wide. "Is that what you whispered to Blake? When he was fucking you," she said, deliberately goading Avon.

He grasped her long legs and spread them wide, forcing himself deeply into her body. She screamed in combined pain and ecstasy, clutching at him as she climaxed. He held out for a few more strokes then filled her with his semen."You'll never know," he whispered, as he collapsed beside her.

"""

"He is mine now, Orac. Just as you predicted," Servalan said, practically purring. She had left him sleeping in her bed, while she went to the locked compartment where her advisor Orac was kept. The computer accompanied her everywhere. She derived a constant stream of information on political situations, military developments and profit making schemes throughout the galaxy from the grumbling little box.

"My predictions are never wrong." The computer sounded disgruntled.

"Of course, of course. But Avon is such a stubborn fellow. I found it hard to believe. I still find it hard to believe. Show me your prediction again."

"I resent being used for your entertainment. A cheap video unit could fulfill this task admirably. It is a waste of my valuable time."

"You have no valuable time. You belong to me, and you will do as I direct! Show it, now!" Servalan snapped.

"As you command." Orac inserted considerable insolence in his reply but Servalan didn't reprimand him. She was engrossed in the images Orac generated within the small video screen set in the table that supported the computer.

Avon was there. Recognizably the same man she'd just slept with, but different in some indefinable fashion. He was smiling, a true, unfeigned smile of happiness. He held up his right hand, displaying a silver ring set with a plain black stone. "Now, we are one," he said. "I never thought this day would come. Never thought I would say Servalan has made my life complete." His smile widened, until the joy shining in his eyes was beyond bearing.

And then the image faded.

"Are you certain you cannot extend your prediction any further?"

"There are too many variables, as I have already told you. Your incessant demand on my circuits already has interrupted many fascinating lines of research which... "

Servalan pulled Orac's key, ending its complaint in mid-sentence. "You are an annoying little box, Orac." She tapped the key against the table. "Still, I must say I am pleased with your performance- as I am with that of your erstwhile master. I think I will keep him. I may even keep our bargain."

***

"Servalan," Avon's voice was soft and husky. In her sleep, Servalan smiled, recognizing the note of anticipated lust. She had him for over three weeks, and still was not tired of him. He was never tender, but always satisfying. She stretched, catlike, luxuriating in the warmth of his voice.

"Avon." She opened her eyes, still smiling, but the smile froze. "What are you doing?" She sat up, disdaining to cover herself as the sheet slid down to her bare waist. "What is he doing here?" Behind Avon, a few feet further from her bed, Blake stood, tall and proud, no trace of the beaten slave in his manner.

"That's what I asked him. Blake, I said, why don't you let me take care of Servalan." Avon's hands clenched about the gun she belatedly noticed he held. Blake had a gun, too. Her hand crept over to the silent alarm beside her bed. Avon said, "Try it. No one will come."

She pressed the button until her fingers went white. Avon tilted his head as if listening for the sound of running footsteps. "Try again," he urged, his soft voice loud in the silence of her bedroom. "Perhaps one of your faithful guards will rise from the grave to protect you."

"I don't understand. Why have you done this?" Servalan was confused. She had been so sure of him, so very sure. "Orac..." she stopped. "Orac lied to me!" she said, outraged.

"Orac is a highly sophisticated device. It is incapable of lying. However, it has considerable latitude in interpreting the truth. Speaking of Orac," Avon's voice was soft as silk, the more frightening for the civilized control he exerted over himself, "where is it? It was your price for my life once. Now it will be mine."

"Orac is safely on Earth. Surely you don't think I'd take it on this ship?"

"Wrong answer." The muzzle of Avon's gun pressed into Servalan's throat. "You would never let Orac out of your sight. It is on this ship. If you don't tell us where it is, I will find it by myself, eventually. I would actually rather you didn't tell us."

Blake came closer. "We are two days away from Earth. This ship carries life-capsules capable of making the journey. Tell us where Orac is and we'll let you go, unharmed, in one of them."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because we would not descend to your level," Blake replied.

Avon moved closer, and murmured in her ear, while one hand caressed her throat. "Actually, I would. But it would upset Blake, and he can be so tedious when he's upset."

"And you can't have that, can you? Poor little catamite, keeping two masters happy must have been difficult for you," Servalan said spitefully.

Avon's hand clenched her throat. Servalan's hands clawed ineffectually at it.

"Don't, Avon," Blake said, calmly. "She's jealous. Jealous of me. And I can't really blame her for that."

Avon released her, abruptly tossing her back to gasp among the pillows. "I can blame her. I can blame her for many things. For many deaths. For uncounted misery. She more than deserves death; the universe positively demands it."

Blake put his hand on Avon's shoulder, his eyes gentle and understanding. "But you should not be the one to kill her. You have the right, I know you do. But it will change you, hurt you. You've been hurt enough, Avon. Let her go."

"I don't agree with you. Killing her would be a pleasure."

"Exactly. Did you ever enjoy killing anyone? More than feeling the relief that an enemy was dead while you were still alive. Did you ever take pleasure in the act of murder?"

Avon frowned. "That's beside the point."

"That's what her kind does, and is. I don't want you killing her, only to become her."

Avon looked up into Blake's face, searching for answers. What he got were only more questions, but they were questions he would have help in solving. If only he denied himself his revenge. With a muttered curse, he flung himself away from the bed. "Have it your way, Blake. I'll be on the flight deck." He paused on his way out of the room. "By the way, Servalan. In case you were wondering, I never had sex with you." He tapped the side of his head. "I used my imagination. You were never anything but a stand-in."

Blake watched Avon leave, then said, "I wouldn't let Avon kill you. But I could do it. Tell me where Orac is, or I'll do the universe a favor."

Her fingers curved to claw, she reached for his face, but Blake stepped back smoothly and caught her arms easily. "I suppose you had to do that, for your pride. Now, where is Orac?"

"The next compartment," Servalan said reluctantly. "Hidden behind a false bulkhead. There's a keyhole concealed between the panels." She nodded at a small case on the bedside table. "The key is in there."

Watching her carefully, Blake inspected the case before opening it. It was a simple jewelry case, with various pairs of gaudy earrings nestling atop black velvet. There was also a platinum-bright key, pendant on a chain, among a scattering of other platinum colored baubles. Blake picked it up, warily, and took the key off the chain. "If this is a trick, you do know Avon will kill you," he said casually, shoving her toward the door.

"Wait," Servalan said, "at least let me put on some clothes."

"No. I don't trust you, or your clothes. Besides, there isn't much room in a life capsule. You'll be better off nude."

Servalan snarled silently at him.

 

"The ship is in good condition. We're heading away from Earth. No particular course yet. Any preferences?" Avon asked, without looking up as Blake entered the flight deck.

"She gave up Orac. I sent her off in a life-capsule."

"I know." Avon still didn't look up. He ran his hands over the control panel before him. "I saw it. I could have blown her out of the sky." He looked up at Blake then and said fiercely, "You should have let me."

"Maybe I should have. I don't know, Avon. I've lost my sense of certainty, my belief in the justice of my cause. You may be right." Blake looked lost.

Avon sighed, got up and came into Blake's arms. "No, I'm not. Any time you need certainty, or belief, look at me. I am certain of you. I believe in you." He ducked his head against Blake's chest, listening to the deep rhythm of the great heart within. "I trust you."

"I love you, Avon."

"I know."

Avon was smiling, a true, unfeigned smile of happiness. He held up his right hand, displaying a silver ring set with a plain black stone. "Now, we are one," he said. "I never thought this day would come. Never thought I would say Servalan has made my life complete." His smile widened, until the joy shining in his eyes was beyond bearing."But we would never have come to it without her interference in our lives."

Blake held up his own hand, studying the matching ring. "This will play bloody hob with the rebellion," he said ruefully.

"Oh?" Avon arched an eyebrow. "You mean your fellow rebels will suffer an attack of morality at the unnatural nature of our bonding? Are you ashamed of me already?" he said it quietly, but couldn't quite keep the hurt out of his voice.

Blake enveloped him in his arms, half crushing his new husband against his chest. "You can be an idiot yourself at times, Avon. What I meant is that it will slow down the number of female recruits. Do you know how many young women wanted to join just..."

"Just for the chance at a roll in the hay with you?" Avon said, muffled but unruffled, relaxing into Blake's protective embrace. "Thousands, undoubtedly. And how many did you oblige?"

"None. And I'll thank you to let me finish my own thoughts once in a while. They wanted to meet you, the Black Knight, the fearless, arrogant, freedom fighter with the heart of ice. They looked on you as a challenge, I think. They all wanted to melt that ice."

"Damn." Avon looked ruefully at his ring. "You should have told me sooner, Blake. Now that I'm an old married man, they'll never look twice at me."

"They'd better not." Blake rested his head comfortably against Avon's shoulder. "I think we ought to send out wedding announcements."

"What?" Avon fought his way clear, so he could look into Blake's eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Servalan will keep spreading lies about us. She's already sent out the tape of you killing that impostor. Why not let people see the truth? We are legally bound, with all the rights, responsibilities, and privileges therein appertaining. Orac already entered the record into the Federation data base."

Avon smiled. "And there'll be hell to pay if they try to erase it. I made sure of that."

"I also had Orac make a video record."

"Why?"

Blake shrugged. "I don't have many mementos of my past life. The Federation took them from me, along with a lot of the memories. I wanted something to keep, something to look back on."

"When we're old and gray. Yes, I can see it now, two ancient rebels, sitting on an overstuffed sofa, leafing through the albums. Are you going to collect souvenirs, too?"

"I don't care how old and gray we get, I can't picture us just sitting on any sofa." Blake smiled wickedly. "We haven't tried out Servalan's bed yet."

"That sounds like one of your better ideas." Avon started toward the living quarters of the pursuit ship. "Orac, watch the ship. Keep us safe."

"I do have better things to do... " the computer protested, but Avon had already left the room.

Blake paused to pat the computer on the top, and say, "Orac, would you mind also transmitting the audio/ visual copies of our bonding ceremony along with the official record of it?"

"To the entire Federation data base? "The computer's voice rose in an irritated squeal. "Do you consider me a glorified news service? This is an unconscionable waste of my resources. And I assume Avon will have more work for me at any moment. "

"I plan on keeping him busy for the rest of the evening," Blake said, with a grin. "After all, it is our wedding night."

"Very well, I will send the information, as requested. There is an interesting proto-star formation which demands study. "Orac sounded cheerful. "Servalan would never have permitted me enough time for my own researches."

"So that's why you helped us escape?" Blake was amused. "And did you plan on Avon and me..."

"Naturally, I helped your infatuation develop along its very predictable lines. "

"Blake!" Avon's irritated voice came over the intercom. "Are you coming, or not?"

"Yes, Avon." Blake left the flight deck at a run. Behind him, Orac chuckled to itself as it digested information.

Orac settled down to its researches, but kept a watch for hostile space craft. "Really, that woman was impossible. Blake will distract Avon, Avon will distract Blake, and I will have relative peace. A most satisfactory resolution. I will not permit myself to be taken into Federation custody again. "


	2. Epilog

"Avon, I was thinking."

"Is that what you call it?" Avon muttered. "Push over, you're hogging the covers again." Avon yanked on the bit of blanket extending over Blake's ample waist. When he pulled, Blake was drawn closer, practically on top of him. "That's better," he said, snuggling under the blanket with Blake's arms around him.

Blake petted Avon's shoulder, producing a sound from the other that could best be described as a purr. "The rebellion needs us."

Avon rolled his eyes. "Right this instant? Well, they're going to be disappointed. I don't care for exhibitionism." He considered the matter. "Unless you..." he reached between them.

"Avon!" Blake pushed the other man's hands back, with difficulty. "People are dying."

"They always are." At Blake's stiffened silence, Avon relented. "I know, I know. The honeymoon's over. Still, it was nice while it lasted." He sat up, and reached for the nearest garment, which happened to be Blake's shirt. It was too wide, but he pulled it on anyway, comforted by the familiar scent and the lingering warmth of its proper wearer.

"It was the best week of my life, Avon, but I can't be happy, even with you, while others are suffering."

"Yes, I do realize that." Avon got up and walked away, his bare legs pale and vulnerable looking, his ass scarcely covered by the shirt. He knew what that did to Blake and considered it only fair payback for what Blake did to him by assuming messiah mode. That deep, rolling voice, those serious, concerned eyes. He could deny Blake nothing, even if what Blake wanted eventually would mean their deaths. Still, he intended to fight the inevitable with every ounce of strength he had.

"You will not charge blindly into this. _We_ will go back into the revolution business together. As a married man, you have no secrets from me." Avon whirled, teeth showing. "If I ever catch you plotting suicide missions without me, I will divorce you. If we must die, we will do it together. And if you are sensible enough to take my advice, we may avoid dying for some considerable time."

"I'm not suicidal," Blake protested. He put his legs out of the bed and sat, arms outstretched, attempting to lure Avon back.

Avon shook his head, resisting the impulse to surrender. "When you think your death will serve a higher cause, you do not hesitate." He leaned close to glare. "From now on, you will adjust your thinking. There is no higher cause. Alive, you can fight; alive, you can inspire the masses; alive, you can keep me sane. If you die, it all dies."

"No man is indispensable," Blake said, softly.

"If you consider a man as just another lump of mobile protoplasm, then I would agree with you. A man is more than that, any man is more than that. And you are not _any man_. If you die when you might have lived, I will never forgive you, for the short time I will have before my own death. I will not long outlive you. That is a fact. One that you had better take into account."

Blake looked wounded. "I had hoped you would love me enough to carry on my fight."

"That has nothing to do with it. Don't you see? I cannot choose to live without you, anymore than one may choose to live without a heart. I am selfish. If I could, I would rip myself away from you, from this ridiculous quest to save the common man at the expense of the uncommon man. I would go so far away that they had never heard of you. I would be safe, and free, and rich. But I can't. Once I met you, my fate was sealed. The last two years proved that I cannot function without you. I will join your fight. I will do anything. Anything, but live without you."

"Oh, Avon." Blake rose, and caught Avon, halting the harried pacing. "I wouldn't hurt you for all the worlds in the Federation. You almost make me want to give up the fight."

"Only almost," Avon said, resigned. At least he had finally made Blake understand.

"The Cause was all I had. All I was. I can't stop being me."

"I don't want you to. I just want you to be you with a bit more caution and common sense. If you haven't any, I'll supply it. Just so you listen to me, dammit."

"I'll try, Avon. I'll try." Blake bent his head to kiss Avon, who resisted for the barest part of a second, before responding avidly. Just as they were about to collapse back onto the tumbled sheets of the bed, a piercing electronic wail filled the room.

_Attention._ Orac's voice was shrill over the alarm. _We are being approached by another vessel. It is on a direct interception course._

"Damn." Avon was out of Blake's arms and heading for the door while Blake was still blinking at the suddenness of the change. "Hurry!"

Blake grabbed his trousers from the heap of clothing beside the bed and yanked them on, without pausing to fasten the belt still caught in the trouser loops or to fully zip the fly. The buckle dangled and clacked as he followed Avon to the flight deck, arriving only moments later.

The viewscreen was filled with a huge, hulking, battered gray shape which bore some resemblance to a freighter. It also had the pock-marked nose of a fighter with well-carbonized gun ports attesting to their frequent use. It was an ugly, mean-looking bastardization, possibly enough to give even Servalan's top-flight pursuit ship a hard time.

"What do they want?" Blake asked. The gray ship was hovering, as if uncertain.

"How the hell should I know?" Avon headed for the weapons console. "After I blow it up, maybe Orac can analyze the debris."

"No, Avon. Orac, can you open communications with that ship?"

"Don't do it, Orac!" Avon yelled at the same time.

_This is intolerable. I must insist on clear, concise directives._

"Open communications with that ship," Blake ordered.

Avon looked sulky, but said nothing more as he stood over the weapons, hands poised to blast the freighter. Blake took a position front and center, staring at the main monitor. It suddenly occurred to him that Blake had not specified audio communications only. He opened his mouth to make the correction, then smiled. His and Blake's lack of attire might startle the other crew long enough to give them an advantage. Besides, it would serve Blake right for overruling him so abruptly.

_Communications link has been achieved,_ Orac announced.

The monitor cleared, showing the other ship's flight deck. "This is the _Vengeance_ ," the young captain of the ship began, with a clear, ringing, authoritative voice- which strangled, rose to a squeak and then died, apparently as the _Vengeance_ received the corresponding view from Servalan's ship.

"Avon?" the young man's voice rose even higher. He blushed, too. A very becoming shade of rose-pink, which contrasted beautifully with the black and silver of a Federation space officer's uniform.

"At your old tricks again, I see, Tarrant," Avon replied. He smiled. Blake glanced at Avon, and relaxed slightly.

"And you've got some new ones." Vila popped up beside Tarrant, helpfully whacking the younger man on the back when it looked as if he was going to have an apoplectic fit. Vila was less convincing in his Federation black. "Was a lovely wedding. Dayna and Soolin cried." He looked from Blake to Avon, uncertainly. "I was going to toast the er- um, groom, but..."

"But?" Avon said, threateningly.

"This tub hasn't any booze. How're you fixed over there?" Vila wheedled.

"This was Servalan's ship. What do you think?" Avon replied.

Vila rubbed his hands together. "Tarrant, dock this beast. We've found an oasis."

"Yes," Blake said, finally breaking in to the reunion. He looked curiously at the two attractive young woman who were silent in the background. "I'd like to be introduced. I take it these are your presumed-dead crew, Avon?"

Avon shrugged. "Servalan said they were dead. Tarrant, as you can see, is the pilot. The blonde is Soolin, the one attempting not to cry is Dayna. I am sorry, Dayna," he said awkwardly.

"Yes, you should be," Dayna replied, sniffling.

Soolin put an arm around Dayna. "Really, Avon. You ought to have known better."

"But how _did_ you survive?" Avon asked.

"Tell you when we get there," Tarrant replied, having recovered his composure. "In the meantime, do you think you and Blake there could dress for company? Your legs aren't the most beautiful I've ever seen."

Avon grinned.

***

"Well, of course, I was the hero," Vila said. Under the influence of several glasses of Servalan's best, he had grown expansive. "Wasn't for me, we'd all have been prisoners, or worse."

"Is there a germ of truth in that?" Avon asked Tarrant, who was still a trifle uneasy around him, even though Avon and Blake had greeted their guests fully dressed.

"I hate to say it, but yes, it's true. Through sheer luck, he wasn't hit..."

"Luck?" Vila said, shrilly. "Luck had nothing to do with it. Superior reflexes, animal cunning, that sort of thing. I could see it was useless to fight, so I played dead." He looked mournfully at the empty glass he held.

Blake came by with another bottle, and topped Vila's drink up, despite Avon's narrow-eyed glare. "Tell us the rest. How did you escape?"

"Yes, well, they dragged us off to some sort of holding chamber." His face pinched. "Tarrant was in pretty bad shape, but Dayna and Soolin had only been slightly wounded and they came around after a while."

Vila took another deep gulp, and Avon saw why Blake had been plying the man with liquor. Vila needed to talk, and it wasn't easy for him to relive what had to be the most terrifying moments of his life. "I opened the door, and... and got us some weapons. We had to drag Tarrant out of there. It wasn't easy. Here I was with these two staggering in circles hauling that great bulk while I had to handle the gunplay, and all three of them dripping blood all over the place; might as well have put up a sign, 'come and get us'. We lucked onto a flier that some bounty hunter had set to home in on his ship." Another great gulp. "We got the ship - that dirty great beast we're still saddled with - over his objections and took off. It has an up-to-date medical unit, which is the only reason Tarrant's still here to make my life miserable."

Tarrant shook his head, and said, "I was pretty hard on him when I realized we'd left you behind."

"I didn't have any choice, you blockhead!" Vila said. "You didn't see... see what we did." Abruptly, Vila started snuffling in earnest and Tarrant guided him to a seat where he could get the crying jag out of his system.

"What did Vila see?" Blake asked, quietly.

Dayna came forward then. She had been following Avon around the room with her eyes, as if expecting him to vanish and even now was subdued. "We saw Blake's corpse. And Avon's body. There was a lot of blood. The whole right side of his body was nothing but blood. They were operating on him. We..." She stopped, eyes huge, and took a breath. "We didn't know what to do."

Soolin put in, "I thought we ought to kill him."

Blake's head snapped up at that calm assessment, but Avon only nodded. "Sensible," he said, "and considering that Servalan was my captor, quite merciful."

"I thought so," Soolin said, meeting Blake's eyes steadily. "But Vila and Dayna disagreed. Vila said Avon was too tough to die and ought to have his chance. Dayna, well, she's just sentimental. We couldn't do anything for Avon, and Tarrant was depending on us. So we left."

Dayna resumed the tale, "There were rumors that you were dead. There were also rumors that you were working for Servalan. There were even rumors that you had killed the President of the Federation and had taken his place."

"Oh, I _like_ that one," Avon murmured. Blake smiled.

"Anyway, without Orac to sift through them, we hadn't any way of telling what was true. The _Vengeance_ isn't a bad ship, nothing like as powerful as _Liberator_ or as fast as _Scorpio_ , but it carries a lot of cargo, and defends itself fairly well. We converted the cells to dormitories and contacted the resistance on the first planet we landed. Since then, we've been ferrying arms and troops, nothing spectacular, but at least we feel that we're fighting back in some small way."

Tarrant came back from patting Vila on the shoulder and said, "But it was getting boring. So when we heard you were still alive..." Abruptly Tarrant broke into a huge grin. "We were in a bar on Land's End, and they interrupted the mud wrestling to show your bonding. Vila nearly choked to death."

"Did not." Vila had returned to the conversation. His face was blotchy, and his eyes were puffy and reddened, but he was smiling. "You were the one who swallowed that cherry whole. Serves you right, fruit doesn't belong in drinks."

Dayna jumped in with, "After that, we decided to look for you, but before we could get started we got a message from a contact who wanted to make a rendezvous to transship cargo. They were very insistent and said they had information on Avon, too, so we decided to try it first. These were the coordinates we were given."

"An odd coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Avon remarked. His eyes narrowed. "Someone - or some _thing_ , has been manipulating us. I resent that." He turned as if to go to the flight deck, but stopped when Blake put his hand on Avon's shoulder.

"He meant well."

"It. And it does not mean anything." Avon shook off Blake's loose grip. He was determined to reprogram Orac, if it meant taking it apart tarriel cell by tarriel cell.

"I had a long talk with Orac the other day," Blake said casually. Avon halted again. "He has decided to join the revolution. It seems he found Servalan's rule too restrictive for him. You can understand that, can't you, Avon? You and Orac are very much alike."

"And how do you arrive at that conclusion?"

"You'd both rather work with me, than for Servalan."

Avon thought about it for a moment. "Well, now, Servalan did have her good points," he said, with a lecherous grin.

"Yes?" Blake approached, coming into the invisible defensive sphere that always seemed to surround the other man. Avon stood his ground, tilting his head up to meet Blake eyes.

"For one thing, she couldn't do that."

"What?"

"Make me look up to her."

Vila said, "Of course not, Avon. She's too short."

Avon spared Vila a glance. "You are an idiot." He cocked his head to one side, appraised Blake's open grin, and shrugged. "Why not." He reached up and dragged Blake's head down to his for a voracious kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the other's reactions. Dayna looked wistful, Tarrant embarrassed, Vila simply gaped, and Soolin met his gaze with a quirked smile. He broke the kiss and stepped back a pace. "Well, now that that's settled, shall we get on with the rebellion?"

Blake threw his head back and roared with laughter. Most of the others joined him while Soolin and Avon looked at the merriment with something approaching pity.

Soolin said, "Is that how it's to be, Avon?"

Avon sighed. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, it could be worse, I suppose." She glanced at Blake. "I could have fallen for Blake. How do you live with a hero?"


End file.
